


Turn Into Something Beautiful

by EliseEtcetera



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Drunk!feyrac is heartbreaking and horny, Dry Humping, Face Slapping, Forbidden Love, Frottage, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry Victor Hugo, M/M, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Loathing, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Underage Masturbation, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Voyeurism, and are catalysts for things, family dinners are shit, i can't believe i'm posting this, i just really love twc, nothing harder than marijuana, underage everything ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2017-12-27 14:11:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliseEtcetera/pseuds/EliseEtcetera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean and Courfeyrac Prouvaire were not your average set of twins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Age Fourteen: Not Really Sure How To Feel About It

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear God, I can't believe I'm posting this not anon

Jean and Courfeyrac Prouvaire were not your average set of twins. They’d been close their entire lives; when they were babies, they had to share a crib at night or they’d both start crying and screaming, and they wouldn’t stop until they were next to each other again. When they grew older, started school, they held hands everywhere they went, to the point that their teachers demanded they be placed in separate classes.

Jehan and Courf, their preferred nicknames, weren’t identical, but people had no trouble discerning that they were twins, or at least brothers.

Courfeyrac had curly, dark brown hair that he wore in a shaggy mess around his face. He was loud, charming, able to hold a conversation with anyone and everyone. He was older than Jehan by two minutes, a fact he bragged about incessantly.

Jehan was quieter, more comfortable with small groups of people he knew. He had long, wavy, strawberry blonde hair that he usually wore in a loose braid draped over his shoulder. He was two inches taller than Courf, and he often joked that the height difference made up for their two minute age difference. His lips were thin compared to his twin’s; Courfeyrac’s own were full, his bottom lip stuck in a permanent pout.

Their similarities, though, captivated all who met them.

Their noses were the same, sharp slopes that rounded off softly. The curl of their lips when they smiled, the dimples that appeared in their left cheeks, those were the same. They shared a laugh; a deep chuckle, followed by an almost evil sounding cackle. Their eyes were the same captivating, forest green that showed their emotions more than anything else did.

To outsiders, it was obvious that they had that weird, twin connection. They often had entire conversations without saying a single word; they finished each other’s sentences; they had a language that belonged to them and them alone.

And it was so much more than what people saw.

\---

_Age fourteen_

“No, you hang up first!... I’m not hanging up before you, so you might as well…Oh, come on, Monique, that’s cold!”

Jehan clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to punch his brother in the face. It was bad enough that Courf was spending most of his time either with his girlfriend, or talking to her, or talking about her, but then he had to go and be the most obnoxious asshole about it.

But it was more than that, and Jehan knew it.

Courfeyrac sighed and sprawled out on the couch next to Jehan, his phone call finally ended. “She is adorable.”

Jehan rolled his eyes. “She is rude, is what she is.”

Courfeyrac sat up and frowned. “You met her once!”

“Yeah, and within ten minutes, she’d insulted my clothes, my hair and-“

“You do dress horribly, though,” Courfeyrac interrupted.

“Fuck you, you wear shutter shades and tank tops with armholes big enough for a baby elephant,” Jehan sniped.

“If you’d just let me plan your outfit for just one day…” Courfeyrac trailed off, his voice high and sing-song.

“Shut up,” Jehan muttered, standing up and quickly walking to his bedroom. Once the door closed behind him, he leaned against it, his eyes closed, and slowly slid down until he was sitting. Tiny tears fell onto his cheeks as jealousy clawed at his ribs, his throat, poured from his mouth in a ragged cry. The words Courf had said just a minute earlier echoed in his head.

_“If you’d just let me plan your outfit for just one day…”_

Something Jehan hated swirled in his belly at the thought of Courfeyrac doing the exact opposite, ripping his clothes off until-

Jehan quickly opened his eyes and reached for the nearest notebook.

\---

Courfeyrac sat on the couch, staring at where Jehan had been sitting just moments earlier. He sighed, feeling badly for insulting his brother; he honestly loved how Jehan dressed. He was unique, wearing what struck his fancy and not caring about what others said. Courfeyrac admired that about his twin; it was a trait he himself had always lacked.

Courfeyrac buried his face in the couch cushions. Things with Jehan had been weird for a few months and he didn’t know how to behave around him anymore. He wanted to act as if everything was fine, like nothing had changed. When he did, however, it felt wrong. He thought about Jehan all the time, and not always as a brother should.

And, _God_ , he hated himself for it.

He’d asked out Monique to distract himself, give himself something else to focus on. If anything, though, going out with her made things worse. Her hair was the exact same color as Jehan’s, and when they kissed, he often found himself imagining that he was kissing Jehan and not her.

A shaky sob shuddered out of Courfeyrac’s chest. God, he was fucked up.

\---

A few days later, Friday evening, Jehan was packing a small overnight bag when the phone rang.

There was a family dinner planned the next day at his and Courf’s aunt’s house, a huge, three-leveled home. She and her husband lived two hours away, and so the twins and their parents often stayed the night after a family gathering.

“I’ll get it!” Jehan yelled as he jogged down the stairs to the living room.

“Prouvaire residence,” he panted, his sprint leaving him breathless.

_“Hey, it’s Monique, is Courf there?”_

Jehan paused, his fist unconsciously tightening around the phone. Before he even realized what he was doing, words spilled from his mouth. “He is, but he’s busy right now. He’s taking care of his warts.”

_“Warts?”_

Jehan smirked and continued, “Yes, he gets terrible warts, has to use that freezing stuff almost every week. He’ll be finished soon, if you want to wait.”

_“Oh, um…no, thanks. Will you tell him to not call me back?”_

”Of course,” Jehan replied, a sense of deep satisfaction filling his chest. “Have a fabulous weekend, Monique.”

_“Heh, you too.”_

Jehan ended the call just as Courfeyrac entered the room.

“Hey, Jehan, who was that?”

“Monique,” he replied, starting up the stairs to finish packing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  Courfeyrac demanded, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

Jehan shrugged and slumped against the wall, facing his brother. “Slipped my mind, I guess.”

Courfeyrac stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, breathing harshly through his nose. “What did you say to her?”

“Does it matter? She doesn’t want you to call her back, so that’s that.”

“Fuck you, Jehan.” Courfeyrac spat, crossing the short distance between him and his brother.

They stood there, faces just inches apart, breathing hard, challenging the other to _do something._

Courfeyrac’s hands hovered in the air above Jehan’s arms. His fingers trembled and his breath hitched in his throat. He leaned forward ever so slightly and--

Jehan was the one who moved first, pulling away and walking back up the stairs without a word.

\---

Things only got worse when they arrived at the dinner.

The ‘so-do-you-boys-have-girlfriends-now?’ question was asked, of course, and it promptly sent Courfeyrac into a foul mood for the whole night.

And then they were told they had to share a room and a bed, due to the current remodeling of most of the guest rooms.

The twins laid there, squished together in the tiny single bed, both trying, futilely, to fall asleep.

Jehan shifted in an attempt to get comfortably and Courfeyrac shoved him hard enough to push him off the bed.

“What the _fuck_ , Courf?” Jehan yelled as he landed painfully on the wood floor.

His twin didn’t answer, just turned so his back faced Jehan.

Jehan growled, climbed onto the bed and launched himself at Courfeyrac. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He hissed, his limbs flailing as he tried to hit his brother.

“ _Me_?” Courfeyrac cried, his own hands pushing at Jehan. “You’re the one who fucked everything up with Monique!”

“Shut up,” Jehan snarled, his hands curling into fists as he pounded them against his brother’s chest. “Just shut up!”

“No!” Courf shrieked, gripping Jehan’s wrists and stopping his blows. “Fuck it, Jehan, I really liked her!”

Jehan froze, his nostrils flared as anger flooded his veins. He ripped one of his arms from Courfeyrac’s grasp only to slap his brother’s cheek harshly.

“Don’t lie to me, Courf,” he spat, his voice low and furious. “She has the same hair color as me.”

Jehan slapped his still thrashing twin again, harder this time. “You were only with her because she reminded you of me.”

Courfeyrac stopped moving immediately, his face unable to hide his shame and guilt, telling Jehan his assumption was correct. His full bottom lip trembled, his eyes were watery, avoiding Jehan’s own gaze, and he inhaled shakily. “Jehan…”

And at the same exact moment, they realized they were both hard, clothed cocks resting against the other’s thigh.

Jehan jerked away almost violently, but not before he slapped Courfeyrac again, even harder, the sound echoing in the sudden silence, as if he was punishing his twin for their shared reaction.

Jehan laid on his side, back towards his twin, and breathed a harsh, “don’t _fucking_ lie to me, Courfeyrac.”

Neither boy slept that night.

And if Jehan heard Courfeyrac softly sobbing behind him, well…that wasn’t his problem.


	2. Age Fifteen: A Piece Of My Soul Escaped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god what am i doing i swore to myself that i'd never write sadrousal  
> hah IMPOSSIBLE IN THIS FANDOM

Jehan sighed and buried his face in his hands, letting his untied hair curtain around his face. He’d been working on his algebra homework for almost two hours and he was barely halfway through the assignment. His brain pounded painfully behind his eyes and tears of frustration wetted his palms.

“Jehan, you wanna play a video game?” Courf asked as he stood in his brother’s doorway. “Hey, you alright?” He inquired once he saw Jehan hunched over his homework with his face hidden.

“No,” Jehan replied, his voice muffled. “I loathe algebra.”

Courfeyrac laughed softly and entered Jehan’s room. “Need some help?”

Jehan nodded and Courfeyrac made his way to where his twin was sitting on his bed.

“Move over,” Courf muttered, gently pushing Jehan’s shoulder. He sat next to his brother, subtly making sure their thighs weren’t touching, and picked up Jehan’s textbook.

“OK, what are you having trouble with?”

\---

“Do you get it now?”

“I think so, thanks, Courf,” Jehan smiled, his eyes crinkling cutely.

Courfeyrac felt like a million butterflies just exploded in his chest. His own lips curled up and before he could stop himself, he wrapped an arm around Jehan’s shoulders.

“Anytime, little bro,” Courf teased, ruffling Jehan’s loose, sweet smelling hair.

Jehan laughed and pushed his brother playfully. “I’m not little, you ass. I’m taller than you.”

“That’s not where size counts, bro,” Courf smirked, the words falling out before he even realized what he was saying.

Jehan froze, his shoulders tense as he avoided looking at his twin.

“Although, we could be identical-“

“Leave, Courf,” Jehan interrupted, his voice clipped and cold.

Courfeyrac swallowed hard, willing his voice to stay steady as he whispered, “I was just kidding, Jehan.”

Jehan shook his head slightly before he lifted his eyes to look at Courf. “You can’t joke about this. Just go.”

Courfeyrac bit his lip and slowly reached a hand out to rest on Jehan’s shoulder.

His twin flinched and shoved him away. “I’m serious, Courf,” Jehan hissed, his breath coming faster. “We can’t-we can’t do this.”

Courfeyrac settled his hands in his lap and started fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt. “I know,” he nodded, tugging at the fabric. “I know we can’t. I’m sorry.”

Jehan swallowed slowly. “I think you should leave,” He mumbled, tucking his hair behind his ears.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Courf lift a trembling hand, letting it hover above Jehan’s shoulder. He withdrew it, suddenly, stood, and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

The second he was alone, Jehan let his chest release the sob he’d been holding. His eyes squeezed shut as he threw himself backwards on the bed, his loose hair flying. He turned over quickly, buried his face in his pillow, and let out a shaky, agonized cry.

“… _we could be identical…”_

A strangled moan fell from Jehan’s lips and before he could stop himself, his hand was sliding down, pushing into his jeans. He was already half hard; Courfeyrac tended to have that effect on him lately. Arousal and shame swirled low in his belly as he turned to lie on his back before he unfastened his jeans and pushed them down his thighs, along with his boxer briefs.

He moaned as he curled his hand around his cock, stroking it slowly. His mind flooded with images of his brother, shirtless from when they went swimming with their friends last month, clad only in a towel from last week when Jehan passed him in the hall after he’d taken a shower.

Jehan threw his head back, his hand moving faster over his dick as he thought of Courf on top of him, their naked ( _identical?_ ) cocks pressed together, the friction between them.

Jehan turned his head into the pillow, trying to muffle the involuntary whimpers and moans falling from his mouth. His hips jerked upwards frantically and his free hand tugged his shirt up, exposing the smooth skin of his stomach. He thought of Courf’s own toned abs, how the muscles moved under his skin.

His entire body tensed as he came, spilling over his stomach and his hand as he kept stroking, dragging out the pleasure. His back arched and his legs trembled ever so slightly as his orgasm reached its peak. He gasped as he started to come down; he often stopped breathing when he came, and he carefully slid his hand up his sensitive cock again, watching the last few drops of semen fall onto his messy, heaving stomach.

His head fell back, landed on the pillows and he closed his eyes as the ever familiar feeling of disgust and guilt quickly negated the pleasure of his orgasm.

\---

Courfeyrac knew he should’ve just gone to his own room after leaving Jehan’s, but instead, he found himself leaving Jehan’s door open just enough for him to see inside.

He watched Jehan fall back onto his bed, listened to the muffled cries and sobs that tore out of his chest.

Courfeyrac sighed softly, guilt filling his own chest for making this even harder for Jehan.

He found out just how hard a second later, when Jehan pushed his jeans down and started touching himself.

Courfeyrac felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He cupped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the gasps escaping his throat. His other hand flew to his own half hard dick.

Oh, God, Jehan looked beautiful.

His hand moved over his cock fluidly, in quick strokes as his back arched ever so slightly. And the _sounds_ he made, Courfeyrac closed his eyes for a few moments, just to concentrate on the absolutely sinful moans and whimpers falling from his brother’s lips.

Courf had started stroking his own cock, now, his hand almost a blur. This was easily the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, and he was the resident porn expert in their group of friends.

The way Jehan moved was captivating; the muscles of his ass were clenching and relaxing as his hips bucked, driving his cock into his fist. Courfeyrac couldn’t stop himself from imagining those same hips pressing against his, grinding their cocks together or, _oh, God_ , fucking into him.

And then, Jehan was pulling his shirt up, and Courf could see the tensing muscles of his stomach and then Jehan was coming, his body frozen and he wasn’t breathing, just splattering all over himself.

Courfeyrac forced his eyes to stay open as he came, not wanting to miss a single moment of Jehan’s own orgasm. His legs were shaking and he bit his lip, drawing blood, to stifle his moan.

He came down with Jehan, watching his brother sucking in deep breaths and laying his head back on the pillows.

Courf drew back from the door the second he could walk, his stomach churning with shame and self-hatred for what he’d done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Sleeping With Giants by The Academy Is... (Was owwww)  
> Also, story title from Yellow by Coldplay
> 
> poooorrrrrnnnn *throws glitter*


	3. Age Fifteen: It's A Terrible Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still don't know what i'm doing oh my god  
> i love angst

Courfeyrac sighed and glanced up at the clock in his freshmen biology class. He tapped his fingers impatiently on his desk as he waited for the bell to ring, announcing the end of the school day.

It was a Friday, and the social justice group Courfeyrac was a part of had a meeting after school. Courf bit his lip, wishing he could just go home, smoke as many cigarettes as he could without puking, and sleep.

Things with Jehan had been getting even more difficult. He couldn’t even look at his brother anymore without memories of what the other boy looked like when he came flashing in his head. He found himself imagining what it would be like to wake up next to Jehan; their naked bodies tangled together, his face buried in Jehan’s hair…

The shrieking school bell snapped Courfeyrac out of his daydream. He quickly shoved his notebook in his backpack and exited the classroom, making his way to Dr. Lamarque’s classroom.

Les Amis de l’ABC, or Les Amis, as they were usually called, formed in the first month of school, when Enjolras, a friend of Courf and Jehan for years, pitched an impromptu debate in their world history class when they were learning about the Boxer Rebellion. The teacher had said something racist, and Enjolras immediately called him out on it. In the end, the teacher was suspended, pending disciplinary action, and Dr. Lamarque, one of the Government teachers, approached Enjolras to discuss the formation of a social justice group.

Even though the founding members, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Jehan, and their friend Combeferre were only freshmen, the group quickly gained more members, even some upperclassmen. They met three times a week, and discussed issues in the community and how they could change them.

Courfeyrac entered the room and dropped himself into the closest seat. Enjolras and Combeferre were already there, talking to Dr. Lamarque, and they barely noticed Courf enter.

The room filled quickly; Joly, a freshman, and Bossuet, a junior, arrived first. Musichetta, a sophomore, entered shortly after them. No one was completely sure what the deal with those three was. They flirted with each other all the time, even held hands occasionally.

Éponine, a freshman, and Grantaire, a sophomore came in a few minutes later.

They took seats next to Courfeyrac; Grantaire ruffled the younger boy’s curls playfully.

“What’s up, Courf? Not feeling sunshiny today?”

Courfeyrac grunted and slapped Grantaire’s hand away. “I feel like shit, thanks for asking.”

Grantaire nodded knowingly. “Wanna talk?” He asked.

Courf shook his head. “I’ll be alright.”

Grantaire smiled and mussed Courf’s hair again before turning to Joly and Bossuet.

After Feuilly, a sophomore, came in, Enjolras moved to the front of the room.

“Does anyone know if Marius will be joining us?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“He told me in English class that he was going to meet his dear Cosette after school today, before she got on the bus, “Éponine answered, barely hiding her resentment. “So he’ll be late, if he shows up at all.”

Enjolras sighed. “Well, that’s great,” He said sarcastically. “And where are Jehan and Bahorel? They’re never late.”

Courf sat up at his brother’s name. “If they’re not here in ten minutes, I’ll go look for them.”

Enjolras nodded. “Good, now, let’s get started.”

When ten minutes elapsed and the missing Amis still hadn’t shown, Courf stood and quietly exited. He turned into the next hallway and made his way to Jehan’s locker, thinking his brother had forgotten his combination again.

He passed a bathroom on his way and would’ve kept walking right by it, but an echoic laugh caught his attention.

A laugh that sounded like Jehan’s.

Followed by a deep chuckle.

Courf paused outside the bathroom’s entrance, his gut twisting. He exhaled sharply and closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his ears.

He forced his legs to walk, take him down the short, tiled hall leading to the boys’ bathroom.

And his heart stopped.

Jehan was pressed against the wall, his arms wrapped around Bahorel’s waist.

And they were kissing.

Lost in their own little world.

Courfeyrac wanted to puke.

He stood there, for a minute, a year, unable to open his mouth and stop them or turn and walk out.

And then Jehan’s eyes opened and found Courf’s and his swollen lips left Bahorel’s. The older boy ( _a fucking junior; he’s two years older than you)_ grumbled disappointedly, until he saw Jehan’s face, the normally soft features now hard, cold, and defiant.

Bahorel turned and saw Courfeyrac standing there, barely breathing, just looking at the two of them.

“Hey,” he said, pulling out of Jehan’s hold. “I’m-“

Courf turned and practically ran out, tears spilling down his cheeks. He slumped against the wall outside Lamarque’s classroom, tried to steady his breathing and stop crying before he went back in the room.

It took a few minutes, and his legs felt so weak, but he slipped in the door and immediately grabbed his backpack.

“I’m not feeling well,” he said, willing his voice to not break. “I’m going to go home.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Grantaire asked, getting out of his seat. He lived on the same street as Courf and Jehan, just a five minute walk from the school.

Courf shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine, I just need to rest.”

“Well, where are Jehan and Bahorel?” Enjolras demanded exasperatedly.

“They’re on their way,” Courf spat, unable to keep the venom out of his tone. He stormed out the door, almost knocking over a giddy Marius, and took the nearest exit out of the building.

\---

Courf entered the empty house like a tornado, slamming the front door, throwing his bag, punching the closest wall with both clenched fists, screaming as if his heart had been cut out.

_Maybe because it was._

He dropped to his knees, still pounding the wall in front of him, still screaming as tears streamed down his face.

When he finally calmed down, sprawled on the floor, curled into a ball, he dug his phone out of his pocket with a shaking hand and slowly typed a new message.

**To: R**

**Can I come over tonight? I need to get wasted.**

**From: R**

**Party wasted or shit wasted?**

**To: R**

**Shit wasted.**

**From: R**

**This have anything to do with Jehan and/or Bahorel?**

**To: R**

**Can I come over or not?**

**From: R**

**Yeah, of course. My dad’s working late tonight so we’ll have the place to ourselves most of the evening. You can spend the night if you want.**

**To: R**

**Thanks, I might.**

**From: R**

**Anytime.**

Courfeyrac put his phone away and carefully got to his feet. He made his way to his room and grabbed the pack of cigarettes he kept hidden under his mattress. He opened his window, leaned out, and precariously lit up.

And that was how Jehan found him half an hour later.

“Courf,” he called tentatively as he entered his brother’s room.

The dark haired boy whipped around, his curls flying. He took a final drag from his _(fifth, sixth?)_ cigarette before stubbing it out on his windowsill and flicking out the window.

“I’m going to R’s; I might be spending the night.” He said shortly, his voice tense.

Jehan sighed, “We need to talk, Courf.”

“No, we don’t.” Courf replied, tucking the pack of smokes into his pocket as he started moving to exit the room.

Jehan jerked forward and caught his arm. “Courfeyrac, we _need_ to talk.”

“Fuck off, Jehan!” Courf spat, yanking out of his brother’s grasp and shoving the taller boy away.

Jehan stumbled, tripped over his own feet, and fell back, landing on his tailbone. He looked up at his twin, his eyes bright with tears. “Courf…”

Courfeyrac said nothing in response, just turned and left.

He jogged down the stairs, out the door and across the street to Grantaire’s front door.

He’d raised his hand to knock when the door suddenly swung open.

Grantaire stood there, grinning and carrying a multitude of bottles in his arms.

“So, what do you want to drink first?”

\---

He didn’t come back for hours.

Jehan waited, first in Courf’s room, then his own, then in the kitchen, and finally, in the living room. He kept his eyes locked on the front door, expecting his twin to enter any minute.

It was a little after three in the morning when Jehan heard the sound of a key scraping over the lock and Courf’s slurred, mumbled curses.

He finally made it into the house a few minutes later, his eyes squinting against the light flooding the room.

“The fuck?” He grunted, slinging an arm over his face as he slumped against the closest wall.

Jehan said nothing, just stood, and wrapped his own arm around Courf’s waist, supporting his weight as he dragged his inebriated twin up the stairs.

“Jean-Jehan, JeanJeanJean, Jeaaaaan,” Courfeyrac chattered in his brother’s ear, his head falling back. “Jean, I’m so drunk, Jehan.”

Jehan stayed silent, and once they reached Courfeyrac’s moonlit room, he sat his brother on the bed. He kept Courf upright with one hand and with the other, he pulled Courf’s shoes off.

He let Courf fall back, his torso landing on the bed with a soft _thump_.

“Oh, my God, Jehan, I am so druuunnnk,” He slurred. “I dun even remember why I’m drunk; do you know?”

Jehan swallowed and closed his eyes, biting back his venomous words. He reached down and started tugging at Courf’s jeans, knowing the only thing his twin hated more than waking up with a hangover was waking up with a hangover in skinny jeans.

Courfeyrac grunted softly and bucked his hips. “Jehan, are you going to touch me?”

The long haired boy froze, gripped the denim in his hands. “No,” he said forcefully.

Courf sighed, a tiny moan escaping. “You can, if you want. I’m giving you permission.”

“Courfeyrac,” Jehan warned. “I’m not going to touch you. You’re drunk.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Jehan clenched his jaw and tugged harder at Courf’s jeans, pulling them to the older boy’s knees.

“Would you touch me if I wasn’t drunk, Jehan?”

“Shut up,” Jehan hissed, trying to rein in his frustration. He pulled Courf’s jeans off completely and threw them across the room.

_Why must he make everything so difficult?_

“I love you, Jehan,” Courf said, his voice suddenly soft, tinged with sadness. “I love you.”

Jehan stiffened, his heart practically exploding in his chest. He closed his eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks, and crawled onto the bed next to his brother.

Courf’s own eyes were closed, and there were tears, shining in the moonlight, pooled under his eyelashes.

Knowing his brother wouldn’t remember this in the morning, Jehan gently laid a hand on Courf’s chest.

“I love you, too, Courf,” He whispered, the words piercing the air between them.

Courfeyrac’s eyes snapped open and he turned his head to look at his twin. “Wha…”

Jehan nodded, the movement sending the tears on his face falling to the mattress. “I love you, too.”

Courf gasped softly and Jehan saw another flood of tears falling from his brother’s eyes before the dark haired boy surged forward clumsily and wrapped his arms around Jehan, shoved his face into Jehan’s neck and hugged him close.

Jehan couldn’t stop himself from responding in kind. He curled around Courf’s body, clung to him as he’d wanted to for so long.

It felt good, right, to be there, twined together, listening to the other breathing in the soft silence, moonlit dark.

It was living poetry as Jehan fell asleep to the sound of his brother’s heartbeat.

And then morning came.

\---

Jehan awoke midair, and was fully alert about two seconds later, when he landed on the floor, pain shooting up his spine.

“What the fuck?!” He screamed, his voice rough from sleep.

He heard Courf growl in frustration as he stood from the bed, deliberately stepping on Jehan’s hand.

“Fuck it, Courf, what’s wrong with you?!” Jehan yelped, jerking his hand away and getting to his feet.

Courfeyrac tangled a hand in Jehan’s tangled hair and tugged roughly before shoving him to the floor again. “Shut the _fuck_ up, Jehan,” he hissed, turning to walk out of the room.

Jehan was too quick, though He reached out his uninjured hand, grabbed Courf’s ankle and tugged hard.

The dark haired boy shrieked and fell forward, his head colliding painfully with the hardwood floor.

Jehan scrambled to pin his brother down. He straddled Courf’s back, pinned his arms down. His brother twisted underneath, trying to buck him off.

“You’re not allowed to do this, Jehan,” Courf yelled, his voice slightly muffled as his face was pushed into the floor. “You’re not allowed to hurt me and then come crawling back.”

The words cut into Jehan’s heart, took him off guard and within seconds, he found himself on his back with Courf, on hands and knees, looming above him, pinning him down.

“Don’t fucking do this to me,” Courf hissed, the desperation in his voice barely concealed.

Jehan jerked violently, throwing Courfeyrac off him. He lurched forward, delivered a swift blow to Courf’s stomach, and straddled his thrashing twin again.

He leaned forward and, before he could stop himself or realize what he was doing, fused their lips together.

It was not beautiful. It was harsh and messy and painful but it was a kiss.

_Oh, fuck, they were kissing._

Courf’s hands flew up to Jehan’s face and cupped his cheeks gently. Their mouths opened, lips parting as their tongues sought entrance, swallowing each other’s involuntary moans.

The kiss was not beautiful but the moment itself was breathtaking.

And it didn’t end.

Jehan shifted slightly, trying to somehow gets closer, and instead, he pushed their hips together. Their cocks were already half hard and there was almost nothing between them, just the thin fabric of their boxers.

Identical moans fell from their lips and Jehan repeated the motion, pressing down harder and aligning their cocks perfectly. Courf’s eyes rolled back slightly and a strangled cry escaped his throat at the pleasure shooting through his body.

Courfeyrac’s hands left Jehan’s face and instead, rested on his back before sliding down to curl around the taller boy’s hips. His hips bucked slightly, pushing into Jehan experimentally. He grinned and softly bit Jehan’s bottom lip when he responded with a moan.

They quickly found a rhythm, rocking up and grinding down, that had them gasping, moaning into each other’s mouths. Courfeyrac kept his hands anchored on Jehan’s hips, pulling them closer every time he thrust up.

Jehan pressed his lips to Courf’s again as he sped up his grinding. The fronts of both their boxers were damp with precome, making the cloth cling to their cocks. Courf whimpered into Jehan’s mouth as he slid his hands to Jehan’s ass.

Jehan’s fingers tangled in his twin’s dark curls, pulling gently. Courf groaned encouragingly and pushed his hips up harder and harder, watching Jehan moaning and writhing above him.

“C-courf, fuck,” Jehan panted, the words barely audible, his eyes wide, staring into Courf’s identical own.

Courf leaned up, kissed his brother again, this time, though, both kept their eyes open.

It was beautiful.

Courf saw his brother’s inner agony that he tried so hard to hide, pour into his poetry instead of living it. He saw Jehan’s adoration, his absolute love for him. Jehan understood Courf’s unwavering need for him, his dependency on him.

The kiss broke when Jehan pulled away, his back arching, eyes slipping closed as he came. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his hips stuttered against Courfeyrac’s erratically. His hands pulled at Courf’s hair and when he finally inhaled after what seemed like hours, a broken moan pierced the air before he collapsed onto Courf.

The shorter boy watched his brother with rapture, his eyes taking in every shifting muscle, twitching limb, even as his own orgasm ripped through him. His own moans tangled with Jehan’s as they jerked together messily, climax ravaging them together.

And it ended, and Jehan fell forward onto Courf’s chest and their hearts were somehow beating, racing, together and Courf slowly dragged his hands up to wrap around Jehan’s shoulders, holding him tight and Jehan’s own hands are idly playing with Courf’s messy curls.

And it shattered.

Jehan suddenly jolted, wrenched himself from Courf’s arms and scrambled, barely able to get to his feet, away from his twin.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered, his voice trembling and tears flooding his eyes. “Oh, my God, God, no, no, no, oh, God, no…” He buried his face in his hands, sobbing raggedly.

Courf sat up, tears streaming down his own cheeks. “Jehan…”

The long haired boy jerked his head up, his eyes filled with agony, shame. He shook his head frantically, still breathing “no, no, no” and rushed to his feet before shakily running from the room.

He slammed the door behind him and left Courfeyrac in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poooooorrrrnnn *throws glitter*
> 
> I may or may not have cried a couple times while writing this chapter
> 
> Chapter title from Terrible Love (The National Cover) by Birdy cuz her version made me cry for roughly eight hours not even lying


	4. Age Fifteen: I Taste You On My Lips And I Can't Get Rid Of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so like, really super really mild dubcon at the end of this chapter cuz Jehan is still a little buzzed but he's totally able to consent i mean
> 
> well he's fifteen
> 
> but
> 
> ya know.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I'm so sorry this took so long to update, I am so bad at updating on a regular schedule, like it's impossible for me
> 
> Also, we got a bit of kink in this chapter heyheyhey =D
> 
> Also, please pardon my fail stoner terminology; I've smoked pot a grand total of 4.2 times and I really know nothing about lingo and such.

“We need to talk.”

Courf looked up at his brother from where he was sitting on the couch. “So, talk,” he murmured, pulling his legs up and curling them underneath him.

Jehan sighed and sat on the opposite end of the sofa, as far away from Courf as possible. He was silent for a few moments, his jaw clenched as he searched for the right words.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare at me?” Courf asked exasperatedly, raising his head again to glare at Jehan.

Jehan swallowed and closed his eyes briefly before speaking. “What happened yesterday morning can never happen again, Courf.”

“Yeah, I know,” Courfeyrac sneered, his arms curling around himself. “What, is this just a lecture about how fucked up we are?”

“I’m serious, Courf,” Jehan hissed, glaring at his twin. “This can never happen again. We’re not going to fuck up our lives with this. I won’t let you.”

“Me?!” Courf yelled, getting to his feet and standing above Jehan. “ _You_ were in my bed.. _You_ kissed me. Don’t pin this on me.”

Courfeyrac stormed out of the room with the fury of a tornado and left Jehan sitting alone.

\---

A month later, Jehan was straddling Bahorel’s thighs in the back of the older boy’s beat up car. Their lips fused in a bruising kiss, moans and gasps filling the small space. Jehan lifted his hands from Bahorel’s shoulders to tangle in his messy, loose mohawk.

Bahorel bit down gently on Jehan’s lower lip, pulling a long groan from the younger boy.

“Yes,” Jehan hissed, his fingers pulling on the locks twined around them. He felt Bahorel’s hands slowly sliding up and down his thighs, sending shivers through his body. He pulled away slightly, only to lick a stripe up the smooth, sienna skin of Bahorel’s neck, his teeth grazing the flesh.

“Fuck,” Bahorel moaned, tilting his head back to give Jehan more room. His hands came up to cup the younger boy’s ass and Jehan froze.

His mind flooded with the memory of Courfeyrac’s hands on him, pulling their hips together.

_No._

Jehan growled and rocked his hips back into Bahorel’s hands and then forward, determined to not let that disgusting, stupid, horrible mistake ruin this.

Bahorel moaned at Jehan’s sudden eagerness, his hands squeezing the younger boy’s cheeks and pulling them even closer. Jehan’s hands started wandering, leaving Bahorel’s hair to glide over his body, coming to rest on his hips.

“Jehan,” Bahorel panted, his words cut off as Jehan kissed him again. “Jehan, wait.”

“No,” Jehan muttered, grinding down on Bahorel’s lap, eliciting moans from both their throats.

“Jehan,” Bahorel grunted as the pale boy pressed himself even closer. Bahorel removed his hands from Jehan’s ass and wrapped them around his wrists, “Jehan, stop.”

Jehan pulled back, panting, his swollen lips parted, his green eyes boring into Bahorel.

“Slow down, OK?” Bahorel murmured, one hand coming up to curl around Jehan’s neck.

Jehan nodded jerkily, averting his eyes from Bahorel’s intense gaze.

“Hey,” Bahorel hummed. “What’s wrong? You’re not usually like this.”

Jehan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears that were inexplicably rising. Flashes of his brother kept burning in his head, echoes of his moans, the look on his face when Jehan said he loved him back.

“Jehan? Hey, what’s wrong? Jehan?”

Jehan opened his eyes and saw Bahorel looking at him, concern covering his face. He carefully wiped a tear from Jehan’s cheek before saying, “I’m taking you home, OK?”

Jehan nodded, whimpering softly as Bahorel kissed him gently.

All he could think about was how much better Courfeyrac felt against his lips than Bahorel did.

\---

The drive back to Jehan’s house was short and awkward and Jehan went straight to his room, grabbed his hidden pack of cigarettes, and slipped out of his window to sit on the roof.

In his haste, he didn’t notice his brother already sitting there, puffing on his own cigarette, until he spoke.

“How was your date?”

Jehan jumped, almost losing his footing. “Jesus fuck, Courf! Warn a guy,” He snapped, sitting down a good foot away from his brother.

“Sorry,” Courf said, taking a long drag. “I repeat, how was your date?”

“It wasn’t a fucking date,” Jehan muttered around his cigarette before lighting it.

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been going out, with him, at night, multiple times a week, for a month now. Don’t tell me he’s fucking tutoring you.”

Jehan sighed, smoke billowing out in front of him. “We’re just messing around, it’s not serious.”

He saw Courfeyrac tense out of the corner of his eye. “What you mean by ‘messing around’?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Jehan sneered, spitting venom.

“Yeah, I would!”

“Why, so you can wank to it?”

“Fuck you!” Courfeyrac yelled, his voice cracking slightly. “I’m still your brother.”

“Are you?” Jehan glared at Courf, who simply returned the look. They scowled at each other, daring the other to speak, to say aloud what had changed between them, for what seemed like an hour.

“Like I said, it’s not serious,” Jehan murmured, turning away and taking another drag.

“Until it is.”

“Or it isn’t,” Jehan hissed.

“Like we aren’t.”

Jehan froze, his heart seizing and tearing itself apart at Courf’s words.

“What are we, Jehan?” Courf whispered, a strange plea, asking for acceptance and denial, love and rejection all at the same time.

Jehan took a final, long drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out and standing. “We’re twin brothers, “he said, surprised at the clarity and strength of his voice as his body trembled and threatened to fall apart.

He slipped back into his room and left Courfeyrac to the night.

\---

Courfeyrac fell back onto his mattress, his fingers clutching the fabric of Combeferre’s shirt and pulling the older boy to settle between in his spread legs.

He leaned up to capture Combeferre’s mouth in a filthy, wet kiss and moaned when the blonde boy tugged on his curly hair. Courfeyrac slid his hands to the hem of Combeferre’s shirt, the tips of his fingers brushing over the sliver of skin there.

Combeferre shuddered above him, and dragged his tongue up Courfeyrac’s neck, his own hands running along Courfeyrac’s sides.

“God, ‘Ferre,” he gasped as the older boy pushed their hips together. Courfeyrac’s hands drifted to Combeferre’s ass, pulling him even closer, and both boys moaned at the pressure the movement put on their hardening cocks.

Courfeyrac whimpered as the memory of Jehan on top of him suddenly filled his brain. In a matter of seconds, his heart froze and his lungs, his lungs couldn’t fill and he was drowning, stuck between his brother and his best friend and he couldn’t---

“Hey, Courf, have you seen my—“

And suddenly, the warm body above him was pulling away and Courf opened his eyes and saw Combeferre sitting on the bed next to him, blushing furiously and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and Jehan was in his doorway, his eyes wide, mouth set in a white line.

Courfeyrac sat up, straightened and smoothing his clothes, and mumbled. “Um, what—what did you want, Jehan?”

The younger twin was silent, his eyes darting between the two boys on the bed in front of him, trying to make some sense of the scene. “N-nothing,” he stuttered after a few moments. “Nothing important, I…” He took a few steps back, out of the room.

He turned and ran, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

\---

The second Jehan was safely behind his bedroom door, he screamed. It was a weak cry, soft and watery, more of a sob than anything else. His entire body felt shut down, his organs had taken the afternoon off.

_This can’t be happening_

He supposed he deserved this. He had wanted this, for Courfeyrac to move on, get past this disgusting lust they had for each other.

_If he can do, I can._

He hadn’t expected it to be so painful.

He fell to his knees, doubled over, buried his face in his hands. He was going to be sick, he knew it. His breath was shallow, his chest heaving, his lungs struggled to function.

_Is this what he felt?_

It took a while, but Jehan eventually stood and grabbed the pack of cigarettes and notebook hidden between his mattress and the wall before jogging out to the hall.

The door to Courfeyrac’s room was still open, and the two boys were still in there, on opposite sides of Courfeyrac’s bed. When Jehan passed by the door, Courfeyrac stood.

“Jehan, where are you going?”

“Grantaire’s,” Jehan called back, not stopping, just continuing down the stairs and out of the house.

\---

Grantaire watched Jehan write furiously in his notebook, the younger boy still holding the bowl in his left hand, dangerously close to spilling the charred herb resting in the hollow.

“Jehan, are you done?”

Jehan nodded, his loose hair flying and he held out the glass pipe.

Grantaire took it and carefully lit up. “Dude, you’re gonna cramp if you keep writing like that, “ he sighed, smoke clinging to every word.

“Gotta get it out,” Jehan mumbled, threading the fingers of his free hand through his loose hair.

Grantaire bit his lip. “Anything I can help with?”

Jehan paused, his eyes clenching shut. “No,” he said, just a hint of remorse in his voice.

“Are you sure? It can’t be that bad, can it?”

Jehan shook his head. “It’s terrible.”

Grantaire sucked in another toke, buying time as his mind tried to connect the few pieces he had. “If you need someone to listen, I’m here. I won’t judge you, you know that, right?”

Jehan looked up at Grantaire and nodded, a tiny, genuine smile pulling at his lips. “Thanks, ‘Aire. Ugh, pass me that soda, I’ve got crazy cottonmouth.”

\---

It was dark when Jehan returned home.

He went straight to his room, the last remaining effects of the drug in his system making him drowsy.

He did not expect to see Courfeyrac waiting for him on his bed.

“Jehan,” Courf started when his brother entered the room.

“Ugh, go away,” Jehan groaned, not even thinking twice before he pulled his smoky shirt off. “I’m tired, Courf.”

“We need to talk,” Courf said, averting his eyes from his brother’s half-naked body. “Wait, are you high?”

Jehan laughed and tugged his jeans off. “Mmm, just a little.” He grabbed the closest pair of pajama pants and pulled them on. “It doesn’t matter because I’m going to bed.”

Courf reached a hand out, his fingers brushing along Jehan’s arm. “Jehan, we need to talk.”

“What is there to talk about?” Jehan snapped, moving to sit cross-legged on his bed. “I’m messing around with Bahorel, you’re messing around with Combeferre and that’s that! There’s nothing to discuss.”

Courf sat next to his twin and crossed his arms. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

Jehan whined, a frustrated noise, and tangled his fingers in his hair. “I don’t want to talk, Courf,” he pleaded, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“I’m sorry you saw ‘Ferre and me today, I…I know it hurt. I’m sorry.”

Jehan hunched forward, letting his hair curtain around his face, hiding the tears streaming down his cheeks. He wiped his face quickly before looking up at his twin. “There’s no need to apologize, Courf. It doesn’t matter whether it hurt or not.”

Courfeyrac shook his head and carefully slid his hand up Jehan’s bare arm, over his shoulder. He slowly tucked his twin’s strawberry blonde hair behind his ear before cupping his cheek gently. “It matters to me, Jehan. I don’t—I don’t want to hurt you.”

And then Courfeyrac was leaning forward, guiding Jehan into a soft kiss… And Jehan found he couldn’t fight it, couldn’t pull back, couldn’t shove his brother away, demand he leave.

So he leaned forward, deepened the kiss, fisted a hand in Courfeyrac’s messy curls and it was good, it was _so good_.

And then reality hit him a like freight train.

He shoved Courf away, watched his brother’s face fall  as their lips parted and it was enough to make Jehan turn one hundred-eighty degrees and lunge forward, pushing Courfeyrac against the footboard of his bed as he climbed into his lap. He curled a hand around Courfeyrac’s neck, yanked him up into another kiss.

“I hate you,” He panted against Courfeyrac’s lips.

_I love you, too._

“I know.”

Courfeyrac’s hands wandered over Jehan’s bare torso, raising goosebumps on his pale skin. Jehan tugged at the hem of Courfeyrac’s shirt, pulling it over his head before crashing their lips together again.

Jehan pressed their naked chests together, shivering at the skin to skin contact and rocking his hips forward.

Courfeyrac moaned into his mouth and panted. “So, we’re gonna do this again?”

“Shut up.”

“You were so vehement that we were never gonna do this again.”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Jehan hissed, tugging harshly at Courfeyrac’s thick curls and fusing their mouths together again.

He pressed himself even closer to Courfeyrac’s body, pressed their clothed cocks even closer, and _God_ , it felt so good.

“I love how you taste,” Courfeyrac breathed, his hips pushing up against Jehan’s.

Jehan responded with a hard slap to Courfeyrac’s face, turning the boy’s cheek a bright red. “Stop,” he growled, his hips finding a rhythm with Courfeyrac’s.

“No,” Courf panted, dragging his teeth down the smooth skin of Jehan’s neck. “No, I love you and you’re gonna hear it.”

Jehan slapped him again.

Courfeyrac laughed lowly. “I love it when you hit me.”

_Slap_

“I love your skin.”

_Slap_

“I love your hair.” Punctuated with a cruel tug on the long locks.

_Slap Slap_

“I love watching you writhe on me.”

_Slap_

Courfeyrac splayed a hand across Jehan’s back, urging him to speed up his thrusting.

They grinded, thrusted, humped, desperately for what seemed like an eternity, lost in the pleasure they made for each other. They kissed messily, biting at the other’s lips, tongues. They dragged blunt fingernails across backs, shoulders, arms, leaving pale pink and angry red streaks everywhere. They made a mess of precome in between themselves, dampening their pajama pants and smearing over their stomachs.

“Is that all you love about me?” Jehan panted, looking his twin in the eyes.

Courfeyrac shook his head and leaned up to whisper in Jehan’s ear, “I love how you stop breathing when you come.”

And Jehan stopped breathing.

His back arched and he threw his head back as his entire body tensed and shook and writhed. His hands clutched at Courfeyrac’s shoulders and _oh God_ , he was soaring and he never wanted to come down.

And Courfeyrac watched, moaning and grasping Jehan’s hips as they jerked erratically against his own, and then he was coming too and Jehan felt _so good_ against him. Skin was all he could feel and his eyes rolled back and he moaned against the sharp line of his brother’s jaw.

And then Jehan finally, _finally_ , sucked in a breath, and a broken cry of pleasure fell from his lips and he was collapsing against his brother, clinging to him, shaking with the aftershocks. Tiny whimpers fell from his mouth and Courfeyrac just pulled him closer and kissed whatever skin he could reach.

It was nice, Courfeyrac thought, to hold his brother, kiss him through the aftershocks, stroke his soft skin, feel his heartbeat.

He knew it wouldn’t last long.

And after a couple minutes, Jehan shoved Courfeyrac’s chest, pushed his arms away, and pulled back.

“Get out,” he muttered, running a shaky hand through his messy, disheveled hair.

Courfeyrac smirked. “You’re not going to hit me again?”

Jehan snarled and the sound as he backhanded Courfeyrac echoed in the silence of the room.

Courfeyrac licked his lips, a small grin playing over them as he stood, awkwardly walked to the door, and left Jehan in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poooooooooooooorrrrrrrrnnnnnnn *throws glitter*
> 
> ugh i am having a lot of fun writing this 
> 
> you have no idea
> 
> YOU HAVE NO IDEA.
> 
> And there is some actual plot to this fic, i swear, it's not just gonna be angry dry humping the whole time
> 
> but hey, that angry dry humping is damn awesome, you gotta admit =D
> 
> ok I'm done
> 
> Chapter title from Nicotine by Panic! At The Disco.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title from Stay by Rihanna and Mikky Ekko
> 
> Original Thread: http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/13775.html?thread=11373263#t11373263


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